


(Re)Debut

by Narimiri



Category: Original Work
Genre: (Like fucking Nakano), (Well its underage if its with someone over 20), 18 is Underage In Japan, Blackmail, Crossdressing, Cute Idol Dresses, Dubious to No Consent, Forced Feminization, High Heels, J-pop Idols, M/M, Makeup, Manipulation, Non consensual contract signing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tbh kinda angsty as hell, Unpleasant Content, Unrequited Crush, creepy touching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-05-18 23:50:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narimiri/pseuds/Narimiri
Summary: Iguchi Asao: The paltry idol.He's desperate to be loved, to have any sort of a fanbase, a career. The last thing he wants is to fade into obscurity, to be a failure.But that doesn't mean he's willing to do absolutely anything. And THAT doesn't mean he won't end up doing things he's unwilling to.Especially when he's got a slimy bastard of a manager like Nakano Yoichi. A manager who's dead set on a little plan he's thought up for Asao.





	1. High Heeled Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, Nari! Back at it again with the weird creepy shit.  
> Yup. I just had another idea, and when I have an idea, I have to write it, or it manifests as writers block on all my other stories.  
> I'd also like to state something I meant to say when I posted ch.1 of I Am Not A Victim: Anything that could be perceived as a kink in my stories/is a kink people have (forced fem, teacher/student, non-con), is 99.99 percent likely to not actually be my kink, because I'm a vanilla loser who likes things consensual if I'm going to find them actually hot, even in fiction. I'm not using any of the kinks shown in these stories because they're a fetish of mine, only because they're the best terms tags wise for my stories. Can't stop you all from using it for kinky reading material though, so go ahead.
> 
> And again, this is not beta-read, so I apologize for stupid mistakes.

"It's hopeless.... I need to quit. I'll cap out soon anyways," Comes the melancholic whine of Iguchi Asao as he looks at the pathetic viewcount on his latest song.    
  
  
"At eighteen? Asao-kun, I'm sure you have at least a  _ few _ more years," Nakano-san, the paltry idol's manager replies.    
  
  
"I guess.... But look at it however you want. I'm a failed idol, and I have maybe till I'm twenty before I fade into total obscurity. I just don't get it.... How am I failing? I haven't done anything vile, I'm nice to fans, and my music isn't  _ too _ horrible," Asao runs a hand through his hair.   
  
  
"You know, Asao-kun.... It could be that women don't like you because you're effeminate."   
  
  
Asao turns to him, blinking vacantly. Effeminate...? I'm not....    
  
  
"You look much more like a female idol than a male one," Nakano chuckles, "You're short, your voice is high. The only women who like you are most likely  _ shotacon _ ." He's half kidding. You can't dig around the few fan communities that Asao has without seeing otaku women in their late twenties discussing how cute Asao is. Even female fans closer to his own age say that he's "pretty".    
  
  
Asao bites his lip, a blush creeping up onto his cheeks. "What are you getting at, Nakano-san?"   
  
  
"All I'm saying is, maybe Iguchi Asao isn't suited for this industry... But maybe another part of you is," Nakano begins, "Come here, Asao-kun."   
  
  
Asao approaches, a hesitant look on his face. Nakano tips his chin up with one hand, producing a pinkish red bottle from his suit pocket. Unscrewing the top, he delicately applies the glossy cosmetic to Asao's lips. "N-Nakano-san! What are you  _ doing _ ?!" Asao steps away, cheeks flaming red.   
  
  
"I just thought that, since female idols do so much better than males... I'm sure you can easily pose as a girl~ Imoto Asami-chan~" Nakano produces an I.D. card from his pocket, smiling smugly.    
  
  
The photo spot on the card is left blank. The other credentials are there though.    
Name: Imoto Asami   
Sex: Female   
Date of Birth: 02/8/15   
Blood Type: A -   
The blood type and day and month of birth are true. Everything else a forgery of a life that doesn't exist. The life of a recently turned sixteen girl.   
  
  
A girl that Nakano wants him to become. "I-I won't do it. I want to be an idol as myself!" Asao raises his voice at his manager.    
  
  
"Asao-kun. As your manager, I have decided this is the best choice. There is no conceivable way that you can continue to be an idol as Iguchi Asao," Nakano smiles coolly, "I won't make you immediately become Asami-chan. We can phase out Asao-kun, let you slowly disappear... Asami-chan will then debut, you can start all over," He purrs, tenderly wiping the lip gloss off Asao's lips.    
  
  
"How are we going to start...?" Asao mutters. I'm sure he'll decide this is too much work.... Going through with this strange plan, it seems like such a hassle....   
  
  
"I'll start small. How do you feel about performing in high heels, Asao-kun?" A devilish smile curls Nakano's lips.   
  
  
Asao pales, eyes shutting as he breathes in deep. "Depends. Let me see them," He's able to force his tone to be bland.   
  
  
"Don't worry, they won't be stilettos~" Nakano laughs at the look on Asao's face, at how hard he's trying to not display emotion. Just to prove he's not lying, he produces his phone, and with relative ease, displays a photo of seemingly ordinary lace-up white boots. "The heel is hidden. You'll just look a little taller, and we'll get you used to walking in heels."    
  
  
The order is placed at Asao's begrudging agreement.   
  
  
A few days later, he meets with Nakano to discuss his work. Nakano is holding a white box, presumably the dreaded shoes. They're the first order of business, taken out of their box, and laced up on his feet. He teeters in the heels, barely able to take tiny steps.   
  
  
He feels Nakano's hands on his hips, thumbs rubbing circles at the points where bone juts out.    
  
  
He thinks he hears Nakano mutter, "Too thin...."   
  
  
He puts it in the back of his mind, and gets to practicing for one of his shows. He's now a paltry idol in high heels. "What's the next step after this?"   
  
  
"It's a secret, Asao-kun~" Nakano's lips curl devilishly behind his coffee cup.   
  
  
"Why does "Asami-chan"'s I.D. say she's two years younger than me?" Asao is full of questions as he practices his dance routines, tripping over himself in heels.   
  
  
"Fifteen is too much of a stretch, so sixteen is the next best debut age," Nakano stands to right his incorrect movements, before sitting back down to sip his coffee and critique him, while gathering things to show him (or to hold off on showing him).   
  
  
Asao hates being watched, hates that Nakano feels the need to point out  _ every little thing wrong with what he's doing _ . He finally excuses himself, walking out of the room.   
  
  
The agency Nakano works for provides practice rooms for its idols, and he takes refuge in the one labelled for him. It's nothing fancy. A wooden floored room with one wall covered in an ugly off-white carpet, and the adjacent wall all mirror, with a barre along the mirror. A rack of old costumes is pushed up against one of the wooden walls, and there are old, worn posters for other idols with more of a legacy, more well known and recognized than him plastered on that wall. A heavy looking CD player with large speakers on either side is on the other side of the room, with towels sat under it, since it tends to skip if people dance particularly aggressively.    
  
  
Asao flips through the small book of CDs beside it until he finds the one for his next performance. He pops it in the old player, and slams the play button.   
  
  
_ Fuck Nakano-san.  _ The voice in his head is an angry, harsh one as he starts the first song.  _ Fuck him and his stupid, shitty idea. He thinks that it's  _ **_not_ ** _ a horrible idea for me to do... to do a think like that. Nasty pervert.... _ He notices a greater degree of power in his voice as he sings over the off-vocal, voice finally matching the mood of the song. He's still weak, by idol standards, but this sudden improvement is shocking and he's not sure where it came from.   
  
  
He's panting as the song ends, a grin on his face as he shakes a little.    
  
  
"Bravo, Asao-kun~" Nakano stands in the doorway, an amused smirk on his face, "I see you think I'll let you continue as idol Iguchi Asao if you improve. I'm telling you, you won't improve enough, that's why we're doing this."   
  
  
"You can't stop me. I can change managers," Asao doubts that.   
  
  
"You can't, Asao-kun. We're in a contract," Nakano reminds him, and his heart sinks, "Now. Come with me. I want to show you that being the moody Iguchi Asao just doesn't suit you."   
  
  
With that, Nakano firmly guides him in through a familiar door in the practice room, one hand wrapped around his hip to "steady him in his new shoes".    
  
  
His dressing room, used for costume and makeup tests, and where he gets dolled up to have his picture taken at the agency's small studio for anything from album covers to shittily made merchandise just like all other idols in the agency get. A new case sits by the mirror, and Asao's heart plummets.  _ He must be preparing me for being Asami, for how I'll look.... _ He takes a seat on the only chair in the room, in front of the lighted mirror.   
  
  
There's an unzipping of the makeup case, and he shuts his eyes, blocking out Nakano's touches.   
  
  
When he's brave enough to meet his reflection, it's... who is this...?    
  
  
Pink lips slightly agape, cheeks and nose touched with blush, and long, voluminous dark lashes. His hair, usually spiked to a slight degree, is brushed into a soft, feathery,  _ fucking pretty _ hairstyle, bangs brushing his eyebrows in a gentle sideswept style.   
  
  
He hears a click, and horrified, meets the grinning, phone wielding Nakano in the mirror. "Y-you--"   
  
  
"Oh be quiet, Asao-kun. These are just preventative measures to make sure that you don't break our little contract."   
  
  
Blackmail, they're 100% blackmail. Not wanting to prolong his own suffering, Asao hurriedly wipes the makeup away with the nearest makeup remover his hands can grab from the table, and pushes his hair into a less cutesy style. "You sick fucking  _ creep _ ...." He snarls up at his manager, who doesn't look the smallest bit fazed.   
  
  
"Trust me, Asao-kun, when I say you're going to meet a lot worse than me."   
  
  
Asao's heart plummets.


	2. Lace Trimmed Stockings

"You're being such a baby about the shoes," Nakano says coldly, watching Asao sit at his chair with an ice pack laid over his bruised feet and scroll his social media on his phone.   
  
  
"They hurt like hell.... Feels like you bought them a size too small or something," He remarks, cringing when he sees posts observing that he was wearing hidden heels at his last show.   
  
  
"Oh dear, I'm very sorry, Asao-kun. I suppose I haven't quite grasped women's shoe sizing yet," Nakano laughs.    
  
  
Asao goes pale. "Wo-women's?"    
  
  
"Yes, yes. That was the only way I could get the right style of shoe. You'll be wearing all girl's shoes soon anyways, so I don't see any issue," Nakano shrugs, clicking between tabs on his computer and observing Asao's laziness.   
  
  
"Like hell I will...." He mutters.   
  
  
'Nakano Yoichi (manager bastard) would like to share an image!' pops up on his phone screen.   
  
  
The image in question is a pair of pink heels (he remembers his mother referring to a similar pair of shoes his sister wanted when she was in high school as pumps?) with little bows on the straps that wrap around the ankle, and a scalloped detail on the... The shoe part, he doesn't know the word.   
  
  
"No." He glowers at Nakano over the top of his phone, declining the request to save the image.   
  
  
"I think they're cute. And unlike you, I pay attention to what potential fans find appealing," Nakano says, "And if you don't want people to realize you're, well, you, then it'd be best to completely flip aesthetics. You're a bit moody and punkish right now, so going very feminine would keep any of your ex-fans from realizing who you are."   
  
  
Asao's face reddens, and he mutters a begruding, "Fine."   
  
  
"Very good, A-sa-mi-cha-n~" Nakano  _ knows _ how mad that name makes him, he's doing it just for a reaction.   
  
  
_ And I won't give him what he wants. _ Asao calmly continues browsing through anything he can find online to keep him from strangling Nakano with a shoelace.   
  
  
"Say, Asao-kun. Since we can't too obviously convert you to being girlish without your few fans overanylzing it, I have an idea. So that nobody can see you changing, but you get used to the way the clothes feel... New undergarments," Nakano's lips curl up into that demonic smirk, and the image sharing request appears on Asao's phone screen, with a photo of pink, lace trimmed stockings, and a pair of lace pink panties with silk bows adorning them.   
  
  
"Those are.... Hideous," Asao declines the "Save image" prompt yet again. Seeing the look on Nakano's face, he adds, "I don't have a choice, do I? Then fine."   
  
  
He can almost hear Nakano's grin widen as he very obviously places the order on his computer. He knows he's being too submissive to this creep, but he doesn't have a choice. Being an idol that gave up is worse than being one that faded into obscurity. At least fading away gives you a graceful death that you couldn't have done anything about. Retiring at his age is shameful, and proves that you're too much of a coward, or that you're too immature to be an idol. And it's not like he'd be moving up by retiring, not like he's going to become a proper singer or actor. He'd just be falling straight down into adult life, completely undignified and pathetic, with no experience. He knows it'd be too much for him to handle, that he's pathetic and sheltered.   
  
  
_ Ha... All this bull about "pride" and "dignity". Like it's dignified to pretend to fade into obscurity, then come back as a "girl". Like I'm going to have a dignified and sophisticated career as a female idol. Knowing Nakano, he'll force me into some shady shit to make sure I get a fanbase. He's just in this to make me suffer and then take my money. _   
  
  
Asao glowers at his manager. Knowing it's against company and contract rules to explicitly lash out or curse at your manager, he snarls, "I hope your hair gel bottle explodes." It's a dumb and childish insult, and he knows it. But he feels compelled to follow the rules, since Nakano doesn't. Pulling someone from their contract and into a new one, inappropriate touching of the talent you're managing.... Just those alone could get Nakano fired. But Asao is the lowest ranking talent the agency has under their wing, the one who pulls the least money, and knows that means his opinion matters less than that of highly paid and respected manager like Nakano. So if he goes to the higher ups about this, he doubts they'll take his claims seriously in the slightest.   
  
  
"You're always so tense, Asao-kun, it wouldn't kill you to unwind every so often, you know~" Nakano chuckles.   
  
  
"Nakano-saaan~!" A girl pokes her head into the room, and Asao immediately recognizes her as the cute and famous "Aiha", the agency's very best. She's been an idol since age 12, and if he's being honest, Asao thinks she's the most beautiful girl he's ever met.   
  
  
"Aiha-chan~ Good morning~" Nakano greets with that slimy smile of his.   
  
  
So he won't seem like a tongue-tied failure, Asao stammers out a, "G-good m-morning, Aiha-s-san!", looking up from his phone at the beauty of a girl in front of him. He won't even deny his feelings for her, despite the fact that there's not a chance in the world he could ever go out with her. They're the same age, so that's not the issue. They're both idols... Agency rules say that idols can't date. And beside, she won't even be viewing him as a boy in most likely only a few months time.   
  
  
That sends a surge of poorly concealed misery through him. "Asao-san, is something the matter?" Aiha asks, eyes wide with concern, "You look so sad..."   
  
  
"I...I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well last night." He shakes his head slightly.  _ She can't know. _   
  
  
"I understand~" She smiles, "You were probably stressed out because of your show still~ I saw it on TV, you did amazingly~! I wish my style let me sing songs like you get to sing~" She sighs enviously.   
  
  
"Maybe you will someday...!" Asao smiles, hoping his face isn't too red after that compliment.  _ Aiha.... thinks I'm talented....! _   
  
  
A distant voice then calls for Aiha from down the hall, causing her to leave with some reluctance.   
  
  
"You know that having feelings for her would kill both of your careers, don't you?" Nakano bursts his happy little bubble of first love with harsh reality.   
  
  
"I know. You don't have to remind me," He snaps back at his manager, "I'd never act on it, since I value the careers of others, unlike you."   
  
  
"Now now, Asami-chan, it's very unbecoming of an idol to talk badly to her manager. After all, I could arrange anything for you I want...."   
  
  
Asao goes tense.   
  
  
"Asami-chan could end up being an AV actress, I'm sure she'd be very popular~" Nakano's light, taunting voice jabs at him like knives, the word "popular" meant to dig him open, because he isn't and he  _ knows _ it. He's pathetic and low ranking, a miserable paltry idol, a failure at 18. He manages a glare up at Nakano, despite his heart burning from the hurt and how damn insulted and patronized he feels.    
  
  
He mutters a "goodbye, Nakano-san. I'm done for the day," and skitters out with his tail between his legs.   
  
  
The next day is a Sunday, which leaves him not returning till Monday, when nothing but Nakano's usual bullying and  _ touching _ occurs. The touching isn't explicitly, well, explicit, but there's lewd intent behind Nakano's poorly guiding hands during practice.   
  
  
Tuesday is the same.   
  
  
Wednesday... Packages arrive at the agency, ordered by Nakano. The bags that come in are very cute, pink with print on them, and they make Asao cringe.    
  
  
The bags are ripped open with scissors. Asao remembers Nakano ordering him.... He shudders at the thought.... lingerie, but he doesn't remember Nakano ordering a pair of ruffled, peachy pink shorts very obviously sized for women, doesn't remember him ordering a slightly sheer white blouse with short, puffed sleeves.    
  
  
"I will not wear those in public." He says when they exit the packaging, lips turning down in a scowl.    
  
  
"Maybe not right now~" Nakano's smile is sly and foxlike, and before he can fight back, Asao is pulled back, and he feels something pop the seams up one side of his tank top. Nakano seems to have produced a seam ripper--no, just a tiny, well concealed blade, nothing sharp enough to break skin-- from his jacket sleeve. No marks are left behind, and there's a slit up one side of his top.   
  
  
"I'll cut your clothes to shreds if you fight back~"   
  
  
That was the first time Asao felt sinking, dreading,  _ fear _ .   
  
  
He knows he's going to feel that fear again though, especially when, within the next ten minutes, he's being taunted in front of his dressing room mirror by Nakano, feeling the dreaded rubbing of the light, summery fabric and frills against his skin, and Nakano's hands dancing lightly over his for once exposed thighs. There's simultaneously too much and too little clothing on his body, the thin top and shorts layered over dreadfully frilly undergarments, including  _ a damn bra _ , Nakano didn't tell him about the shitty bra. There's a slight gap between where the bra cups round to, and where his chest slopes boyishly, which Nakano says he can make hide by stuffing it. Hell fucking no.   
  
  
Miserable fear courses through him, as he knows this... this is his future.    
  
  
And there's fuck all he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm so sorry I write so slowly ;; I just have like one small window of writer's creativity per day it feels like, and it sucks. And I apologize to Asao for what I do to him.


	3. Quick Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!! As usual, I apologize for mistakes, as I don't have a beta reader ;; I tried to check for errors, but I may have missed some, sorry ;;;

Asao doesn't want to get out of bed that week. He does, diligently follows his routine every day.   
  
  
Wake up, eat, go to the agency, be bullied by Nakano, practice, be harrassed by Nakano, maybe eat lunch, more bullying, harassment, practice, go home, have dinner, practice till he passes out.  
  
  
It's an awful schedule, it has to be killing his body, but still, deep down in his naive little heart, he believes he can become an idol as himself, that he can prove Nakano wrong.  
  
  
So he works on. Works his ass off. Blocks out Nakano's assholish behavior to the best of his abilities.  
  
  
And it works. It works!  
  
  
Until three weeks of this unhealthy schedule have gone on without a hitch. At that point, Nakano seemingly decides to screw him more ways than someone in a porno.  
  
  
"Asao-kun. You're getting five more weeks as yourself. No more, but I will allow less," Nakano says one morning.  
  
  
Asao slips over himself, landing in a sniveling, curled up heap on the floor beside his CD player in the practice studio. "W-what?"  
  
  
"Five weeks until we pull "Asao-kun's" contract, Asami-chan."  
  
  
Asao is starting to feel that he's meant to be the fake one, the false identity. "That's insane.... Y-you can't do this to me!"  
  
  
"You really don't realize what I _can_ do, do you?" Nakano sneers, "I can get pull you out of anything I find to be useless, I can put you on anything necessary-- don't think I won't do exactly what you're thinking."  
  
  
Asao is pale, whiter than a sheet, abject horror etched into his features, eyes practically bugging out of his head. "I'll tell my family how much of a sick freak you are!" He blurts out, in a panic to say anything at all.  
  
  
"Ha! You, Mister "my family hates me and thinks I'm wasting my life", _you're_ going to go crying to your parents?" Nakano goes from cheerfully threatening to hostile and vile in a split second.  
  
  
"You can't do this to me, you can't!" Asao insists, scrambling to his feet in hopes that standing will give his threats more merit.  
  
  
"The more you say that, the more I want to do it," Nakano's lips curl into a grin.  
  
  
This sick son of a bitch _has_ to be getting off on this. Asao is starting to feel he's just going to be made into a cash cow and Nakano's masturbation fodder, and it makes his blood boil just thinking about it.  
  
  
Nakano totally gets off on this, the freak's probably obsessed with crossdressing porn.  
  
  
"You're a freak. And what you're doing can't be legal," Asao snarls, "But since you've got this grand plan, let me hear it."  
  
  
"You know what my plan is, don't play dumb. And what would be the fun in telling you every little detail?" Nakano laughs, "Then I only get to enjoy the look on your face once."  
  
  
Asao groans, mutters an insult, and gets back to practice.  
  
  
He has a show that Saturday, and, to his shock, it goes phenomenally. He almost cries on stage at the reception he's getting as he sings with pure, rich emotion, lights bursting with flair and passion on the stage behind him.  
  
  
 _Suck it Nakano. I can be an idol as myself, and you know it, you old pervert._  
  
  
Passion-red smoke dances around his feet, the deep color matching his smoky makeup and firy, purposefully tattered coat that flies behind him as he dances the stage.  
  
  
He's shaking when the show is done, grinning uncontrollably as he exits the stage. Down the hall to the dressing room marked as his he walks, giddy and soaked with sweat.  
  
  
A small bundle of envelopes awaits him at the door, all addressed to him from what he can only assume is fans.   
  
  
He's never gotten fan-mail before, and his heart seems to swell in his chest as he reads each one to completion.   
  
  
"Asao-san!" Someone calls his attention, coming running up to him, a girl's form in a hooded sweatshirt.  
  
  
His eyes widen when she lifts her hood up, and he realizes...  
  
  
It's Aiha. _Aiha_ came to see his show. "A-Aiha-san, good evening!" _Shit, what do I say...._ "I d-didn't expect to see you here, I would've thought you'd have a show too..... I-I'm glad you came though!"  
  
  
"I was supposed to have practice tonight, buuut... I talked to my manager, and she talked to my dance and vocal instructors, and they let me have the night off!" She's so proud of herself, a massive grin on her face, "I don't get any practice breaks tomorrow though, so I can't see your next show...." Her smile turns to a small, troubled line on her face.   
  
  
"O-oh, that's alright! I'm just happy you got to come today. I n-never expected it~" Asao laughs, and he's sure he's blushing so fucking hard at this point.   
  
  
The pair hear someone calling for Aiha, and a moment later, a tall, thin woman with long hair and a well tailored suit comes walking down the hall, black heels producing a _click click click._   
  
  
One short conversation later, and Aiha and her manager are walking away, and Asao is still smiling. His heart is fluttering in his chest as he steps into his dressing room. He sighs, over the moon as he flops into his chair.   
  
  
"You just don't learn, now do you?"  
  
  
He falls out of his chair with a faint cry, heart sinking at the sight of his manager. Nakano is standing over him. "You're still such a stupid, naive _child_ that you think you can just have a happy little relationship with Aiha-chan. God, you're so hopeless."  
  
  
"I-I-- N-Nakano-- We were just talking--"  
  
  
"Excuses, excuses. Should I shorten the time you have before your reworking? Maybe... three weeks?" Nakano sneers down at him.  
  
  
"Y-you can't...! You can't fucking do this!"  
  
  
"Beg for it."  
  
  
"W-wha--"  
  
  
"Beg for me not to shorten the time. Get on your knees and beg," Nakano orders, and horror, absolute mind-warping terror can be seen in Asao's dark eyes.  
  
  
But he does, thankful they're behind closed (and locked, whenever Nakano did that) doors. On his knees, hands pressing against the floor in front of him so that his whole body won't give out under him. "P-please, God, please don't do this.... I honestly didn't mean t-to flirt with her, I-I only want to be... be her friend...."   
  
  
Tears threaten to fall, humiliating defeat shown in his downcast glance.  
  
  
"I understand," Nakano smiles in false earnest, "I'll only take off a week. You've got four weeks, no more, no less."  
  
  
Asao's heart sinks, _aches_ , and he wants so badly to cry. But he doesn't say anything more, and gets to his feet, the good evening ruined and his spirits beaten down.  
  
  
But despite that, as his first-last week ticks down, despite his dread...  
  
  
He puts on the best damn performances he ever has. Full of heart and soul, he's as firey and passionate as the stage effects behind him. They're little shows, he's not on a major tour, or really any tour. He's just performing wherever and whenever the agency schedules, but goddamn is it fun.  
  
  
And every night she can be, Aiha is there, and they get small conversations in pre and post-show.  
  
  
He's having a good week, slipping under Nakano's watchful eye and growing closer to Aiha at every show she attends.   
  
  
Until one practice morning, when Nakano proposes an idea.  
  
  
"Say, Asao-kun," He begins, "You won't be able to live in your current place once you re-debut, since some of your fans are aware of your location."  
  
  
Asao nods absently, thoughts of Aiha having left his head cloudy all day.  
  
  
"I propose that you live with me. I have plenty of room in my home for both of us--"  
  
  
"No."  
  
  
Well that snapped him out of it.   
  
  
"First of all, you're an adult, and I'm... _not_. S-second, I'll... I... j-just no! That's fucking creepy, you sick piece of--" He stops himself short.  
  
  
"Hmm.... Well, if you're not going to take me up on my _generous_ offer... I suppose I could..." Nakano holds up his phone, and Asao is horrified to see the photos of him in makeup on screen, looking delicate and pretty, but still obviously male, "I could post these pictures, tell your dear, sweet fans and innocent, angelic Aiha that you're a pervert who likes to dress as a girl in his spare time."  
  
  
Asao's voice catches in his throat, and he manages to squeak out, "N-no...! Please don't...!" Pathetic, but Nakano does usually let him off easier if he begs and bitches.   
  
  
"I won't, if you accept my offer," Nakano bargains, smile slimier than his gel-riddled hair.  
  
  
A long, long pause.  
  
  
"I-I... I accept."  
  
  
Asao gets home that night, and shrieks into the first pillow he pulls off his futon. All the rage, the pain and humiliation and suffering inside him is boiling over like a pot left for too long. He's furious with Nakano for doing this to him, furious with himself for being so worthless and passive...  
  
  
And so he screams into the pillow again, fists slamming down into the solid futon beneath him. The process is repeated till the boiling over pot inside him simmers down, and he lays on the futon, breathing hard and heavy.  
  
  
His phone hums to life, with a reminder from himself to rest, since he doesn't have a show tonight.  
  
  
And rest he does. He sleeps like a rock, despite nightmares of Nakano, of being torn away from everything he loves.  
  
  
He wakes up the next morning to his alarm, his phone greeting him with a cheery song, and several hour old LINE notifications lighting up the screen. He shuts off the alarm with a sigh, before rolling over, groaning as he stares up at the ceiling. He presses a hand to his head.  
  
  
 _God...._  
  
  
After ten minutes of lamenting his fate, he drags himself up and out of bed, pausing to mark off a day on his calendar.   
  
  
It's been a week since Nakano gave him his four week time limit.   
  
  
He only has _three weeks_ left as himself.   
  
  
Just the thought fills him with dread. He's now aware of just how fucking _real_ what's going to happen is.  
  
  
And he doesn't _want_ it to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asao screaming into his pillow is the mood for August 2018 tbh.


	4. Torn Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween readers! I'm sorry I haven't been writing much, I'm busy as hell (I've actually had a life lately!!), and writers block is a mofo. I've also been re-hooked on gaming lately, since I got a new pc, so whenever I'm not doing school and such, I've been wasting my evenings on overwatch and the sims. Iiii have a problem.  
> As usual, this is not beta read, so all mistakes are mine :>  
> If you enjoy the chapter, leave a comment or a kudos! ^^

Asao enters his apartment with a slam of the door one night, three days into his third week left, red makeup smeared from sweat and pitch black eyeliner rubbed away.   
  
  
_ "Fuck!" _   
  
  
He chucks his shoes into their rack before stalking inside. He wants to  _ kill  _ Nakano. He crashes facedown into his bed the second he reaches it.   
  
  
_ Aiha has been transferred out of this branch of the studio. Transferred to another city. There's no way this isn't Nakano's fucking doing. _   
  
  
He wails, he knows it's bad for his voice, but he screams, raw sobs ripping their way out of his tired throat. Tears streak through his makeup as he silently blames Nakano for Aiha being transferred. It's his fault!   
  
  
His phone lights up with an incoming call. It's... Nakano. But he takes it, answering with a rough greeting.   
  
  
"Good evening, Asami-chan~" Nakano chirps on the other end, and Asao knows he visibly cringed hearing it, "Please be at the studio bright and early tomorrow~!"   
  
  
"I will..." He mutters that and nothing more, hanging up in a hurry. He lays back in bed with a sigh, as he starts up some music on his phone. Aiha's music.   
  
  
Hers and his are night and day in terms of genres, but he  _ loves _ her voice. Her melodic, sweet voice with the slightest hint of maturity starts just before the background music, and he lays back in bed with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut.   
  
  
He doesn't wake till the following morning, when his phone is displaying a "charge me!" type of warning, it's only at 3%, and his music has stopped.  He puts it on charge as he hops out of bed with enthusiasm that drains quickly as he remembers Nakano's cryptic call from last night.   
  
  
He tries to still get ready in a hurry, the fear of being punished settling deep inside him. He's sure it won't be anything terrible, nothing permanent yet, but still. Nakano could take another week off his freedom.   
  
  
Just the thought borders on making him sick as he makes himself a cup of coffee with shaking hands.   
  
  
The morning goes just fucking  _ wonderfully,  _ goes wrong in little ways. He burns his tongue on his coffee, no matter what he does the shower stays cold, his phone is barely charging and it's  _ raining _ .   
  
  
He usually likes the rain, but as he heads out today, it just feels appropriately doom and gloom as it beats down on the clear plastic umbrella over his head. He wipes at stray streaks of makeup he couldn't get off in the shower as he runs to catch a bus. He just barely gets on one just as it's starting to close it's doors. Standing amongst passengers, he keeps his hood down and head up, but attracts attention nonetheless.    
  
  
"Onii-san, you look like the boy my big sister has pictures of in her room!" A little girl standing with her mother waves at Asao. He lifts his hood with a grin like the one he flashes for posters and photos, showing off strikingly light hair and bright eyes once the hood no longer obscures them. "Mama!" The little girl tugs on her mother's arm, "Look, look, it's the boy from nee-chan's big poster!! Mama look!"   
  
  
Asao kneels a bit, to be on the same level as the girl. "Mhm~ I'm a singer, does your onee-chan like music?"   
  
  
"Uh-huh! She does, a whole lot! She likes a lot of boy singers, but you're her favorite! She's got a biiig poster of you with weird makeup on!" The girl gestures grandly to show the size of the poster to the best of her abilities.   
  
  
Asao laughs softly. "Well when you see your big sister next, you can tell her you got to talk to me~"    
  
  
The girl's mother casts a glance over at him, flashing a small smile. She doesn't realize he's the real thing, or recognize him, but seems greatful that her child is entertained and happy.    
  
  
Asao's stop comes within the minute, and he waves to the girl as he hops off the bus outside the studio. Despite his worries, that one little conversation gave him more cheer than he ever would've thought it could.    
  
  
His heart still warm and swelled with happiness, he walks through the rain and into the building with a grin on his face. A grin that melts away when he passes the remnants of Aiha's practice room. Even with the nameplate removed, he knows exactly which one is hers, and he slowly walks past it to Nakano's office.    
  
  
"Good morning, Asami-chan!"   
  
  
God, he just wants to smack Nakano upside the head. "Good morning,  _ Yoichi _ ," He says with a tired, vindictive sneer, watching irritation furrow the older man's features, "And it's still Asao for another few weeks."   
  
  
"Not on my watch. There's no reason for you to have another three weeks. You've performed every show you had up to three weeks from today."    
  
  
Asao stops short, whipping around, enraged. "What?! No, no no no, you said I have three more fucking weeks!"   
  
  
"Nothing's fair in this business, sugar~" Nakano honest-to-God cackles, like he thinks he's a goddamn Disney villain. Asao's panic is really setting in. Oh, he's so so fucking screwed, it's over!   
  
  
"That's because it's run by scumbags like you!" Asao shouts, trembling like a leaf. Oh, he wants to smack Nakano SO bad! This shit can't be allowed...!    
  
  
"Now, that's no way to talk. I'm going to be providing you with a home, food, and money for the foreseeable future," Nakano lectures, before dropping his voice to a threatening whisper, "That means you've got no right to be such a hormonal little fucking Prima Donna about every little thing."   
  
  
Hands on Asao's shoulders, holding him in an inescapable grasp, he asks, "Do you understand me?"   
  
  
Asao nods, a lump in his throat that he can't swallow away. "Yes, I understand, N-Nakano-san," He answers through gritted teeth, voice thin and wavering with anger.   
  
  
"Good! You're going to be a whiny little brat in the coming months anyways, so I seriously don't need you getting a jump on your bitchiness," Nakano scolds.   
  
  
_ This is so fucking unfair. This can't be legal. _ Asao is fuming, absolutely livid. This can't be happening! Anger flushes his face and makes hot tears blur his vision.    
  
  
Nakano's hand brushes his cheek, and he unconsciously smacks it away, taking a step back with a sharp intake of breath. He doesn't realize he's still backing away till his back hits the wall. "You're sick, you're sick..." He whispers, voice wavering.   
  
  
"I could be sicker, you know. I could make this far, far worse," Nakano's grinning visage enters his blurred line of view, and he's panicking too much to say a thing, all he can do is mouth "stay away stay away stay away".   
  
  
The floor seems to sink away beneath him as his vision snaps from blurred to black.   
  
  
He wakes hours later on an unfamiliar couch, in a house nicer than anything he's seen. Keyboard keys clack distantly in the room. He rises from the couch, slow, sluggish, and tired.   
  
  
Something feels very wrong.   
  
  
"Good evening, Asami-chan."   
  
  
Asao screams, high and shockingly girly, stumbling back over and landing hard on a coffee table he hadn't noticed yet. His body spasms at the impact, then he lays frozen with fear.   
  
  
Nakano's silhouette becomes him as he steps aside and out of the glow of the lamp illuminating his back. "How mean," Is all he says.   
  
  
"Why the  _ hell _ am I in your house?" Asao asks as he stands, sparks of pain dancing up his spine.   
  
  
"Because I never did learn your address. You always whined your way out of giving it to me. And you'll be living here for the foreseeable future anyhow, so I figured, why not bring you here now?"   
  
  
Asao's gaze travels past Nakano as the man speaks, catching glimpses of papers on the table in what's probably the dining room, of a high-end laptop softly whirring with activity. "What are those...?" He points to the papers with worry in his voice.   
  
  
"Contracts," Nakano says with a smile, "And if you don't sign every last one, I'll make sure that you regret it."   
  
  
Footsteps heavy as he walks to the pile of papers, he swallows heavily when he reads the first contract. Nakano could be asking his soul of him and it'd be less than what these demand. He's giving his whole life and identity to Nakano if he signs these, and that's so fucking scary, it makes him feel so sick.    
  
  
He slumps in a chair, reading the heaps of contracts that only grow worse. He'll be nothing after the first, Nakano's after the second, forced to be a she with the third, the fourth will make him succumb to patronizing training and education (the last two years of school repeated!), and his debut will come soullessly with the fifth.   
  
  
He's being stripped down and losing the heart he used to have only days before. Nakano stands behind him with a grin.    
  
  
_ I'll be nothing. _   
  
  
He swallows heavily, chokes back what feels like vomit. He'll be a vapid, soulless little modern idol, not a shred of even Aiha's brand of dignity in the life or discography of Imouto Asami. He thinks of the idols other agencies put out. Brainless pretty boys who sing love songs, and air-headed girls with sugary giggles at the end of every sentence. The agency Nakano works for has always had integrity, picking talents with spirit. Whether it be Aiha's sweet but mysterious act, or the fiery, rebellious attitude Asao has always gone for, they've always been... different.   
  
  
Tears burn the corners of his eyes as he mourns his old life. It's not even gone, but at the same time, it practically is.   
  
  
He tenses, tears of wet, shaky anger spilling down from behind closed eyes at Nakano's hands on his pale shoulders. "Go to h-hell...." His voice is nothing but a rough, broken murmur.   
  
  
"And leave you with nothing? That's not me, baby~"   
  
  
Asao chokes on his angry lament, uttering a weak, "E-excuse me...?" He's mad about "baby" at first, if there's one thing he doesn't want to be, it's Nakano's bitch, but then the lie of his words hits him. "D-did you just fucking say that destroying someone and leaving them with nothing  _ isn't  _ you?!" He whirls around, shoulder striking against the older man.   
  
  
"It isn't me, and you know it. You're always out to antagonize me, when I just wanna help you. As a "misunderstood teen", shouldn't you understand that I'm trying to help you, right baby? I'm misunderstood like you," Nakano smiles, concealing thinly veiled murderous anger.   
  
  
"I'm not your "baby", and you're not misunderstood," Asao argues on through his watery anger. A hand meets his cheek, but it's not in a hit, there's no resounding smack through the room followed by a stinging pain.   
  
  
It's so much worse.    
  
  
Nakano's hand tenderly cups his cheek, forcing his head into a left tilt. Free hand around his waist, Nakano has to lift him so that his heels rise off the floor to lock him in the non life-saving kind of mouth-to-mouth.   
  
  
It's hot- burningly unpleasant, not arousing-, and makes him want to throw up. Nakano acts like he wants to eat him alive with how his lips attack....   
  
  
Asao finally gathers the strength to wrench away when he feels his wrist being jerked as his heels touch the floor, and he whips to where Nakano is holding his arm. A scrawl written with both their hands (though his was forced) fills the "signature" slot at the bottom of the contract that surrenders him and the entirety of himself to Nakano, taking his identity. A scrawl unmistakably mocking his own.   
  
  
His heart sinks to his feet- no, it sinks past that, it's probably reached the other side of the goddamn earth- at the sight of it, but he barely has time to glance longer, as he's wrenched back into Nakano's forceful hold.   
  
  
Fighting and a surprising lack of spilt ink later, a defeated Asao falls in a slump of sleep against Nakano as the older man finishes the last signing with a slight flourish.   
  
  
Halfway through, the contracts have been signed with the bouncy kanji of "Imouto Asami", a (still messy from Asao's resistance) silent showing of the unwilling surrender of Asao's self.   
  
  
No going back.   
  
  
_ Cry a river, cry a lake, cry the fucking oceans of the earth, tears won't save you in showbiz, little idol. _ __   
__   
_   
_ __ Welcome to the industry again, Asami.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nakano deserves to be stepped on by someone in ice skates. Greasy slimy piece of shit.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could've made this chapter a bit longer while still ending it where I did. But I wasn't sure how to do that without shoving in overly lengthy descriptions and the like. Sigh.


End file.
